


Of All the Voices in my Head

by orphan_account



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: #ohfrickyoufoundmyfics, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gay Male Character, Jeremy Heere Is a Furry, M/M, Why Did I Write This?, boyf riends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 20:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13796217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jeremy Heere hadn’t moved in the comfort of his thin white hospital bed in four days. Michael Mell hadn’t left his side in five days.Not after the whole S.Q.U.I.P. incident.





	Of All the Voices in my Head

Jeremy Heere hadn’t moved in the comfort of his thin white hospital bed in four days. Michael Mell hadn’t left his side in five days.  
Not after the whole S.Q.U.I.P. incident.  
Nothing frightened Michael more than to see Jeremy hurt, alone, and unsure of what would happen next. The menace of sitting next to Jeremy while he unconsciously slept intimidated him more than the thought of S.Q.U.I.P. returning. Would he ever awaken? Michael felt like a dog who’d permanently chained his feet to its owner’s grave.  
The only sounds were indistinct cars rushing outside in the streets of New Jersey, and Michael’s soft hums of a Bob Marley tune. Jeremy was on his side facing Michael, although the fuzz-covered sheets covered most of his body and face. Sun sliced through the window and illuminated the side of the blankets and Jeremy. A hushed beep of technology was beside in between Michael and Jeremy, beeping at the pace of Jeremy’s precise limited heartbeat. Tap. Tap. Tap. Michael recorded the data as well with his foot of the spruce floors.  
In his hands rolled a crinkly plastic cone around damp, dripping living flowers that seemed to pass as the days stretched out in front of Michael’s eyes.  
I wonder if you would like them, or think I was just being a dork, thought Michael.

The sky was now dim and Michael arched his back against the chair as it cracked several times. He gazed at Jeremy with glossy-but-growing-pale dark brown eyes. How can you be so beautiful as you sleep and so heedless of it?  
In Jeremy’s oblivious state, Michael took his chances and leaned forward to lightly kiss his forehead, then he rolled the wheeled felt chair closer to Jeremy’s side, rummaging beneath the covers to pull out his frail hand, clutching it tightly.  
All the doctors must have been too engaged in something with other patients because the door never opened in Jeremy’s room. A thick curtain was draped from the ceiling, splitting the room in half. Another uninhabited room was on the other side. Michael didn’t feel that he could bring his hand to let go  
The lock on the door clicked.  
“Michael Mell? Is that you?” a high-pitched sweet voice asked.  
Michael was instigated into sitting straight up and nearly falling from his chair that writhed beneath him like an uncooperative horse he was riding. “Y-yes, I’m he(e)re.”  
A female doctor walked into the rayless scene. “It’s time to go home, sweetie.”  
Does she know I’ve been he(e)re for four fricking days!?  
“S-sorry, okay, I’ll g-go.” Michael replied, blushing lightly as he dropped Jeremy’s hand. The air was chilly as he walked towards the door, even though he was wearing his favorite snug hoodie. He felt drunk as he wobbled precariously to the door, swaying from side to side even though it was straight ahead. Well, he hadn’t used his legs in awhile. And he wasn’t exactly “straight” either, so you can’t blame him.  
Leaning on the wall near the entrance to the room, Michael interrupted his exit. “Could you, umm, I don’t know, maybe, umm, t-tell me, uh, if Jeremy is well s-soon?”  
“Oh sure! We have your number already, so you’re good to go!” the white-clothed doctor stated.

Lazily out the front door, Michael mumbled, “Michael makes an exit~”

Michael twisted under his blankets. Nothing seemed comfortable, if that was even possible considering he’d been sleeping in a rolling chair the past four nights. He felt very confused between his agonizing thoughts and unsatisfactory position in bed.”  
“Mmph, Jeremy,” Michael slipped from his lips, immediately anguishing his words for their longing. Michael slithered in the sheets again, grasping and ungrasping his blankets. “I want you to be he(e)re so badly. . .”  
Okay, not in a dirty way, just a loving desire way.  
How could I leave you? I want to protect you. . . and never lose you. . . like I almost did before. . .

The nightmare was still clear in Michael’s mind; a squipped Jake strangling him back from Jeremy and Christine. He struggled in his grip, clawing at Jake’s skin, but Jake had him pinned, far from Jeremy.  
Michael reached out towards Jeremy and Christine, who were swaying back and forth in each others’ embrace, but he was ripped back to helplessness again by Jake, pulling him down. His fecklessness convinced him he was only futile, and there was nothing he could do to help, or get Jeremy. He was too distracted to ever even realize that rivers had flowed from his eyes several times.  
Rich stopped beside Jake to hand him a bottle of Mountain Dew. He’d be gone for good, he was sure. As they plugged the bottle to his mouth, pinning him down, and forcing the liquid down his throat, Michael knew he was losing all of New Jersey and soon the world, and most of all, his twink-of-a-crush since age 6 to a supposed tic tac.  
The rest of the night was pain, something tearing his unintroduced S.Q.U.I.P. from his brain, sending shock surges under his skin.  
When he finally woke up, he first took Jeremy’s side as he slept, getting to the hospital next to him and staying there since.

The thought of that night illed Michael. Feeling troubled and light-headed, Michael fumbled out of bed and staggered to his bathroom in stupor.  
It had become some sort of a reflex to lock the bathroom door quickly, just fearing another terrible Halloween party night. . .  
If only Jeremy had seen the mess I became after losing him once. What will happen if I lose him again!?  
Michael peered into the mirror, turning the sink water off as it streamed into the drain, and almost disappointed, he saw his reflection, dark circles beneath his eyes, and messy hair, if it wasn’t already chaotic. His pupils were restless and thin, like fighting fate. . . more like fighting sleep.  
I can never go back to that horrid severe state. I can never go back to a party, either. Without Jeremy, I wanted to take my own life. I need you Jeremy! Where are you? 

Year after year, Michael’s love for Jeremy faced fate. Is this how his love for Jeremy would be terminated forever?  
Michael a mental list of his flustered failures, attempts, and fates to his burning affection:

A few years back, when the dynamic duo were about thirteen, Michael had invited Jeremy over for a round of Mario Kart, and the two were all over their bean bags, sliding across the dusty basement floor.  
“Stop winning, you twunk!” Jeremy squeaked, scrambling furiously on his blue bean bag.  
“Only if you stop losing, twink!” Michael teased, nudging his elbow into Jeremy who screeched back in defense, “I’m not a twink!”  
They’d gone through some diverse rounds, mostly Michael won, but Michael said he was proud when Jeremy won a single match. As the two laughed and messed with each others’ controllers, Michael found his black nails somewhere other than his own controller.  
“Ha! Who’s the king again!?” Michael said in triumph, his eyes lighting up as if stars were hidden in them. Jeremy didn’t reply.  
Confused, Michael turned to Jeremy, who was a paler than usually. “Jer?” Michael’s blood went cold as Jeremy continued to stare blankly ahead at the screen, his mouth twisted in apprehension. Michael trailed his sight down his arm to find that he’d held Jeremy’s hand awkwardly and they were closer than they were before. Michael clenched his teeth and turned back to the game, still being a master with a single hand.  
After three more minutes of pure anxiety, sweating, and stiffening, Michael relieved his hollow stomach by pretending to finally notice his hand on Jeremy’s.  
“Augh! Ahahahaha! What is this!?” Michael acted, shaking his hand from Jeremy’s, “Sorry, dude! I didn’t notice!”  
Jeremy seemed relieved as well as satisfied that Michael’s balmy hand had left his hand, and he was left to grow chilly in the basement. “It’s fine,” Jeremy’s voice quivered. “Now slow down a little, Bowser!”

When Michael was only 6, he had turned to Jeremy, bewilderment highlighting his eyes as he gently pushed his glasses back into place, the vivid view of Jeremy bolding into sight.  
“Really? You think we could really get married?” he asked, rocking his feet back and forth on the asphalt of the kindergarten playground.  
Jeremy smiled as his face grew a tiny bit paler. “Of course! Wouldn’t that be fun! Then we could always have soda and play videogames!” The sky rid itself of clouds for the two young lovers.  
“Hmm,” Michael took the thought under consideration as Jeremy continued pending answers. “I guess. We could even maybe even get kittens?”  
“Yes! But dogs and lizards too also.” Jeremy reminded.  
“Okay it’s a plan.”  
Michael spent the next two years denying their promises. He felt too young and insecure to come out to anyone. Especially Jeremy.

After Jeremy’s 13th birthday, Michael gathered his bedtime supplies and them placed them on the floor, leaning flimsily on Jeremy’s closet door.  
“Alright, now it’s just torture,” Michael smirked, taking in the sight of Jeremy in a complete bunny onesie. “I knew you were a fricking furry, but this!”  
Michael snorted and landed his face in Jeremy’s thick blankets, his heels wiggling on the edge of Jeremy’s bed.  
Jeremy ducked from the illuminating shady light peering through the glass of his only bedroom window, hiding his rose-red expression. “I- well- d-do you like it?”  
Michael was disrupted and stunned away from his laughter. All giggles broke like a glass mirror or an ice shard. His gaze became more sincere and mystified as his eyes locked firmly with Jeremy’s look; his eyes melted looking at Jeremy’s enlarged blue pupils, glossy romance making a wet surface of his eyes. Jeremy was a little too cute in his fursuit, especially his tail and ears. Michael’s face started to heat up. Michael was suddenly struck with an immense urge to pin down that innocent little bunny and press him deep into his flexible mattress, kissing him hard.  
“Michael?”  
“Augh! I-I think- umm, I-” Michael stuttered, shaking himself, his imminent romance fail nearer than ever. “It’s. . .” Beautiful. . . “cool, actually. Seriously Jer, it’s nice to see you embrace your-”  
“Michael!” Jeremy yelped in defense, falling back onto the silk bed, laughing. “Twunk!”  
Later that night, Jeremy the Furry and Michael the Gaymer began to rest their relentlessness to not sleep, and gave in, swaddling themselves in Jeremy’s bed.  
In a state of pure laziness, Michael yawned and leaned into the center of the bed. Jeremy lifted the covers once more to shield Michael’s ankles from the cold open air.  
Michael yawned in the silky wet moonlight, closer to Jeremy with every breath. Within a mere heartbeat, Michael had his bare arms around Jeremy’s furry clothing, pulling him closer and rippling warmth into his lithe body. Jeremy’s eyes were wide with shock. One arm was lassoed around Jeremy’s waist, petting his pelt, and the other was playing flirtatiously with his stubby rabbit tail. Michael’s head was now resting on Jeremy’s shoulder.  
Oh crap.  
In 8th grade, Jeremy and Michael stopped around 7 Eleven to grab slushies.  
Only to get caught up in its radicalness.  
“Aww, what do we have here?” An emo boy in a raven-black trench coat slinked up beside Jeremy and Michael’s table by the storefront window. “Two boyfriends on their firwst date?” He crossed his arms and leaned on the rim of the tabletop.  
Jeremy and Michael both backed away from their romantic huddle on the table.  
“Ha! Boyfriends.” Jeremy remarked glancing sideways at a smirking Michael.  
The emo slurped slowly from his slushie, then backed away, giggling. “Whatever you say guys.”  
Continuing their slushie “date,” the two conferred about Jeremy’s crush on Christine, Squirrelflight’s beauty, and a new Zelda game upcoming.  
Oblivious to their position, Michael’s cherry slushie was pushed to the side, and he and Jeremy both leaned in, looking elsewhere, trying to drink from Jeremy’s cup. Their lips both landed on the straw, but they were on each other’s more than anything else.  
Springing from his position, Michael spat out slush to the floor, maniacally laughing. “I’m so sorry, dude! No homo, oh my gosh!”  
He lied. 

When Michael was sixteen, Fall Festival approached in his school, and Jeremy offered and persuaded Michael into making an appearance, though Michael strictly repelled leaving Jeremy’s side when they arrived.  
He had too much social anxiety and uneasiness. Too insecure and uptight.  
Michael rolled back onto Jeremy’s bed, facing the turquoise ceiling, his socks writhing around his foot until they wiggled off. He felt respect in the closed door, only leaving Michael and the cool air and him together. He continued to strip, now only in Pacman boxers.  
Blushing to himself, Michael slipped a tight dress over his head, exposed to the light of night. Slithering into place, Michael stood onto the wooden floors to look himself in the mirror.  
The dress was scarlet red, almost purple in the darkness, and Michael was enticed in the cute fluff of his skirt, twirling it back and forth. Not wanting to take it too far, he verbally convinced himself that he looked too fat in the dress.  
Just as Michael retreated to the bed to make a few kinky poses on the bed and view them in the mirror, Jeremy turned the knob of his door and pushed into the door, exposing Michael with his skirt flipped upwards to reveal his Pacman boxers.  
Jeremy felt as if a spark of attraction pecked him on the nose, and soon burst in color throughout his face; red.  
“Michael, what the crap are you doing!?” Jeremy accused to hide his fault in allure.  
“Jer I didn’t mean for you to- I was just- I- do you like it?” Michael’s pupils were thin in captivation and inhibition.  
“Do I like it?” Jeremy asked, now walking into the room, and locking the door behind him. “It’s cute I guess. . .”  
Michael began to smile.  
“But only because you’ve seen me in a fursuit.”  
“Furry.”  
“Gay.”  
“Twink.”  
“Twunk.”  
“Twank.”  
“Weed Socks!”  
“Bunny!”  
“Pacman!”  
“Whatever.”  
The festival was actually played out where Michael hid behind Jeremy hiding behind popular kids stalking Christine. Crap.

Later that year, now at age 17, February settled among New Jersey as cherry blossoms fluttered downwards, as if pink sequins raining throughout the sky, bursting out powdery pollen and serenity in the pale scarlet Valentine’s Day air. The whole town seemed to begging for romance as couples took walks in the park. Michael Mell was just hoping for it.  
“Wait!” Michael leaned over, resting his hands on his gray jeans, scrunching the thick fabric between his fingers. Gravel slid underneath his converse shoes. “You know I can’t run for that long. . . or that fast.  
“It’s alright, Player Two.” Jeremy soothed, turning from the park path, aiding at Michael’s side, wrapping a single arm around him. “He(e)re have a slurp.”  
He held a strawberry smoothie to Michael’s quivering lips. Michael wept sweat from his tan forehead.  
They trudged further to a white bench partially shaded by a cherry tree.  
“So,” Michael said shifting in his red hoodie, turning his arms just to keep Jeremy from recalling the rainbow flag patch. “ for Valentine’s Day, and bromance, uh-I. . .”  
“Yes?” Jeremy pressed, turning to the smaller boy.  
“I got you this card,” Michael held it up, rotating towards Jeremy as a sunset ray glided from his glasses. A sparkle glimmered within his brown eyes.  
It was a slushie-red heart shaped card, in the center it read: Two Bros Chillin’ Forever.  
“A-aww,” Jeremy’s heart melted, his eyes wanted to spill out of his skull, but all he could manage were a few tears. “Thank you!”  
“You’re welcome,” Michael said, a stellar heart forming in his eyes.  
Before you could say, “Two Player Game,” Michael’s lips were crashing into Jeremy’s, his tongue competing for dominance in Jeremy’s mouth. Jeremy was startled and his eyes were wide for a split second, until he fell into Michael’s desperate kiss. As Michael began to sit on Jeremy’s lap, stringing through his hair, an awkward make out scene started in the park.  
Finally, Michael pulled away almost submissively as someone running in the park yelled, “No fags in the park! There are kids here!”  
Michael muttered a curse, then shouted, "I thought everything was legal in New Jersey!" then said “innocently,” “No homo.”  
What the frick.  
He just kissed him and said no homo.  
Crap.  
Crap.  
Crap.

Michael now was in his bedroom, regretting half of his attempts, and wishing some had gone further than he gotten at all. If their kisses had lasted longer. . .  
Petals that were once young, rich, prismatic, and vibrant were now bleeding infertile pollen and balding from petals until they were only round pits with a flimsy stem. All Michael’s faith and optimism for Jeremy’s wellness seemed to fade as the flowers withered and decayed.  
He pictured his presenting of the flowers; Jeremy’d look amazing, as always, and most of all, Michael would just be satisfied that he was content and smiling.  
“Hey, here you go, Heere. A little present from me to you.” Michael would passionately shove the flowers the closest to Jeremy’s face as he could. “Haha! No homo!”  
. . .  
All his affection and fervor seemed to vanish into thin air when those words were spoken. As if fighting a war all for none of a difference, or losing a million dollars to a gambling machine. It made Michael feel like everything was set in stone, inevitable. Intertwined to fate like thick roots, indenting their mark for forever. Fate-- it was Jeremy and Christine. Forever. Nothing else.  
He despised that “no homo” phrase. Just desperately wanting Jeremy all the time was enough. Saying no homo was like acting as if the death of your closest friend meant nothing.  
I love you, Jeremy. I really, really love you!  
And then that insane obsession with Christine! Hearing his almost-cute “Christine~” over and over and over and over and over and over again had ruined Michael slowly over the years.  
He desired to scream it in Jeremy’s face, kiss him until he couldn’t breathe, hold him until termination by death. But every time when given the chance, he’d become sweaty, shaky, and red. Ugh. He just wanted to break from the chains that receded him from confessing.  
Drip. Drip. Tears.  
He had to go back to the nearest New Jersey hospital. Jeremiah Heere was not nothing to Michael. He was everything. There was no Player 2 without a Player 1.  
His heart quickened, shocking him with frantic longing.  
Before, you know it, I’ll be there, Mr. Heere. Just you wait.

Michael’s black nails razed the marble countertop, curved as if trying to dig into the surface. “Hello, I’m he(e)re for Jeremy Heere? What floor, what room, what-”  
“This floor, room 169, but, uh, at the moment, you might- he-”  
“Thank you, ma’am!”  
Michael’s legs thrusted him further and faster than he thought he’d ever go. Love adrenaline I guess. 

Beep. . . beep. . . beep.  
“. . . Please, Jere. . . Jeremy? Jeremy!”  
The medical machinery sped up Jeremy’s heartbeat, explicating evanescent life in his almost still breaths.  
Michael’s hands trembled clutching Jeremy’s jacket, tears dampening everything within a foot from Michael’s face. Jeremy had sunken into the thick mattress, his eyelashes shadowing over his closed eyes. Michael buried his face into the blue blankets.  
“Please-” he gasped, catching his fading breath, “Wake up. I. . .” - he winced, spilling more tears, and grieving with moans loudly afterwards - “I love you.”  
He shuddered.  
“I. . . brought you f-flowers.”

. . .  
Beebeebeebeebeeee-

Beep. Beep. Beep. Contact; a hand on Michael’s. The other wrapping around his back.  
He shifted to face Jeremy. His blue eyes were icy yet held so much love. He was too ecstatic to even have an expression.  
Michael’s were wet and glossy.  
“J-Jere-”  
Jeremy lifted his chin to kiss Michael properly. A warm pleasuring feeling erupted in Michael. They both had hands on each others’ jackets, so Michael hoped it’d last longer. He didn’t want to hear those two words either.  
Jeremy pulled away, viewing a flushed-of-color Michael.  
“Yes homo.”  
The curtain beside their bed swayed, the metal rings sliding sharply on the metal bars holding it up; which pierced their ears. As the gray curtain washed from sight, it revealed a wide-eyed Rich, laying in his own hospital bed.  
“Jeremy and Marcus, I saw that!”  
Well I guess he didn’t even know my name at all.  
Then he sprinted from his seat with a clingy Jeremy finally letting go, he went out the door, practically ran down the halls, and turned left around the corner to go get-  
“Christine?”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Peeps! Agh sorry this was bad ughgughguhgughughugh. Well anywaaaaaay~
> 
> Next coming are a JDXMichael Mell fanfiction, Falsettos, 21 Chump Street, In the Heights, more Dear Evan Hansen, and soon more Hamilton as well.


End file.
